


Jewel of Jötunheim

by concede



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Jötunn Loki, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Piercings, Public Sex, Squirting, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concede/pseuds/concede
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div>
  <p>Already, his mind is spinning with how to court her, this exotic Jötun woman, that he might make her his. As it happens, he needn’t have bothered to consider: as soon as the doors are closed behind them, Loki’s hands are on his chest, blue splayed like a splash of paint against his sun-bronzed skin. </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Jewel of Jötunheim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaFemmeFatale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFemmeFatale/gifts).



> For [lokiodinscn](http://lokiodinscn.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.

Loki has never seen one belonging to the Æsir before, and thus she cannot hide how enthralled she is. She leans forward on her seat made of ice, emerald sarong laced with a silver trim and pooling about her ankles. “All-Father,” she greets with a respectful nod of her head at King Laufey’s behest. He has brought her here for a reason, to show of the Jewel of Jötunheim, and Loki lives up to her title. 

She is decorated from head to toe in riches, from the circlet sat atop her head (silver with a foliate design, encrusted with frosted green gems) to the anklets encircling her ankles. Her coal-black hair is braided over one shoulder, threaded with the prettiest beads, but while the thick tresses cover one pert breast, the other remains bare. The slender necklace chain around her neck drapes down even lower in delicate silver links over the bare expanse of her cleavage, connecting to each pierced nipple and then dipping low to a pierced navel, surrounding her midriff and teasing at the hem of her sarong. 

Her attention drifts to the All-Father’s son, who seems equally rapt. Loki allows her lashes to dip low against the highs of her cheeks, brushing along the exotic, slightly-risen lines that are innate to the Jötun race. “Ása-Thor,” Loki near-purrs, adopting the sultriest tone she can manage while Laufey is distracted with political talk. She is intrigued, and she means to see more of this peculiar race, decorum be damned. “My name is Loki, King Laufey’s youngest daughter and the Jewel of Jötunheim. Might I show you to your rooms?”

It’s all Thor can do to nod his head, almost salivating as he watches her backside and the casual sway of her hips as she walks ahead of him, leading him through the frozen corridors to the room that will be his for the next week. Already, his mind is spinning with how to court her, this exotic Jötun woman, that he might make her his. As it happens, he needn’t have bothered to consider: as soon as the doors are closed behind them, Loki’s hands are on his chest, blue splayed like a splash of paint against his sun-bronzed skin. 

His hands settle against her hips, thumbs brushing the soft material of the sarong, but much to his embarrassment he finds himself at a loss for what to do next. He doesn’t know how to touch this beautiful, headstrong creature— what she will allow him, and what she will refuse him. “Loki,” he breathes, hesitant. “We shouldn’t…”

Loki hushes him with her lips, strangely cool against his own. They trail along the stubbly line of his jaw, sharp teeth nipping a path to his ear lobe. “You needn’t be so frightened,” she murmurs, tugging the lobe between her teeth. “I know what I’m doing, Ása-Thor. You _have_ been touched before, yes?”

His mute nod seems to satisfy Loki, whose clever hands make quick work of his clothes before pushing him onto the bed, sprawled across the furs of giant beasts Thor never even knew existed. “You Æsir wear too many clothes,” Loki chides, anklets jingling as she removes the sarong and moves to straddle Thor. His cock is hot and heavy between his legs despite the slight chill of the room. Jötunheim is inherently cold, and so is Loki, it seems. Thor shivers as her tongue traces the lines of his body, mouth latching onto his neck and suckling at his pulse point. 

He wonders if she can feel it race under the surface of skin, so nervous he is.

“Well?” Loki draws back and looks at him, impatient. “Do you mean to lie here under me and do nothing the entire time, or do you mean to take me?” She rolls her scarlet eyes with a soft scoff. “By the Norns, are all Asgardians so lazy? Must I do _everything_ myself?” She starts to roll her hips, and Thor’s head falls back against the furs beneath him, moaning helplessly as he feels her slick folds sliding along the length of his cock. “Touch me,” she demands, and immediately Thor’s hands are on her hips, sliding up gently over the fragile chains and feeling the soft curves of her figure. Loki snarls, grabbing his calloused hands and placing them on her breasts, holding them there as she ruts against him and forcing Thor to fondle them in his palms. The piercing feels strange and foreign under his touch, but when Thor tweaks the nipple curiously, Loki stiffens and instantly comes, a gush of hot liquid over Thor’s cock that sees his vision cloud with desire.

“Loki,” he breathes, watching her pant above him, breasts heaving and a darker hue settling across her cheeks. “You’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful.” He allows her a moment to catch her breath and then rubs the pad of his thumb against the hard nub, doing so until she is moaning above him again, soft and wanton. How easy it is to still her sharp tongue! Thor’s own arousal throbs with urgent need, twitching in interest as she begins to huff and whine as he tweaks her nipple, feels it pebbled and aching under his touch, and then does the same for the other. 

Satisfied, Thor turns them over on the bed, Loki on her hands and knees and Thor hovering behind her, the head of his cock teasing the slick heat of her folds. He holds onto her hips as he sheathes himself in the wet heat, not bothering to prepare her for the breach. His muscular chest falls heavily against her back, his lungs struggling to draw in breath as he slowly eases in and out, feels her inner walls clenching around his girth. “Loki,” he chants. “ _Loki_.”

He finds a steady rhythm, one hand remaining on her hip while the other explores, slides beneath the chains dipping down from her writhing body, and finds her clit, circling the bundle of nerves with his thumb as he takes his pleasure from her. Eventually, his hand settles against one of her bouncing breasts, fondling as the tell-tale heat starts to coil in the pit of his stomach.

“Thor!” Loki cries out with her second orgasm, squirting once again.

It’s too much, the clenching around his cock and the _squelch_ as he enters her and her juices spill out around him. Thor manages another two thrusts before coming, bruising her hip with the force of his grip as he spills his seed deep inside. 

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence, the two struggling to catch their breath in the wake of their activities. Eventually, Thor laughs, ducking his head to press a gentle kiss to the other’s shoulder blade. “Is this how you greet all your honoured guests?” he teases.

Loki scoffs, sliding out from under him. “I’m not a harlot, you idiot.” Thor watches with pleasure as his seed trickles down between her thighs, grabs hold of her hips before she can move to redress and laps up the mess with his tongue. He doesn’t care that his beard is sopping wet with her juices, nor does he care that he continues long after she is clean. Soon enough she is sobbing, coming against his tongue as Thor mouths at her quim, begging him to stop and to never stop all at once, overcome with pleasure. 

For a week, Loki barely leaves Thor’s side, such is a testament to his prowess.

On the night that he’s due to leave, she pulls him behind an icy pillar, scarlet eyes wide and shimmering with tears. Thor holds her face in his hands, his own face falling with the sadness he can see in her. She has never looked as beautiful as she does now, her expression so open to him. “Loki,” he breathes. 

“Don’t leave,” Loki orders, her voice tremulous. 

“I’m heir to the throne, Loki. I have to return to my realm,” Thor reasons, thumb sweeping across her cheek to catch the tears that fall from her glistening eyes. His voice softens as he adds, “Please don’t cry.”

Loki snarls, lip curling back to reveal sharp incisors, but before she can pull away, Thor draws her close to him, their chests pressed flush and their mouths meeting in a fervent kiss. “I’ll never forget you, Loki,” Thor promises urgently, scrabbling to remove her sarong in the same moment Loki reaches to unlace his trousers. “ _Never_.”

He presses her against the pillar, her long legs wrapped around his waist and his mouth latched onto her neck. His breaths are hard pants, and her hands fist in his hair as he takes his pleasure, hard and fast. They come together, stifling their moans as best they can, and holding on as though for dear life. Thor is certain he hears a profession of love, muffled in his blond tresses, and his heart breaks. In that bittersweet moment, they truly believe it will be the last time they see each other. For a long time, they remain wrapped up, reluctant to disentangle their limbs and part ways, though duty demands it of them both.

Loki refuses to look at him as he leaves on the Bifröst, and Thor sheds tears when he sees the Golden Realm— not because he has missed his home in his week long absence, but because he desperately misses that which he has left behind on Jötunheim.

As it happens, the Norns have a different fate in store for them. 

Heimdall opens the Bifröst to King Laufey and his retinue a few months later, and Jötunheim’s king is furious. He demands to see the All-Father and his son, and all other matters are dropped in favour of keeping the fragile truce between their realms. Thor enters the throne room without fear, and grins when he sees Loki at her father’s side. She looks as beautiful as he remembers— regal.

His smile soon drops when Laufey lunges at him, a blade of ice forming in his palm before Odin’s voice rings out in the silence: “Stop this madness! Do not forget our truce.” Laufey snarls, his razor-sharp teeth glinting menacingly, but the ice is gone, and Thor can breathe easier. 

“Our truce was broken the moment your son defiled my daughter,” Laufey seethes.

“Father,” Loki whispers, imploring. 

“Show them!” Laufey insists.

She hesitates, casting her gaze towards the floor as the illusion shatters, the veil she’d held over herself dissipating that the Æsir should see her condition. Her breasts are fuller, and so is her stomach, round with child— _Thor’s_ child.

“Loki,” Thor whispers, marvelling at the sight. He cannot help but step forward, his palm resting against the soft swell. "Is it…?” he has to ask, amazed. He had not expected this, but can think of no greater surprise.

“Yes,” Loki says at once, rolling her scarlet eyes. “As I said before, I’m no harlot.”

“You admit it then, son of Odin?” Laufey roars. “That you took my daughter, filled her with child and then abandoned her? Do you confess?”

Thor holds Loki close to his side, lifting his gaze to Laufey and Odin without shame. “The babe is mine, but I did not take Loki against her will. I wish only to do right by her and the child she carries; I would ask for your permission to marry her, King Laufey, and one day make her my Queen, further cementing the union between our two realms. Let there be lasting peace.”

Silence settles over the hall, but Thor stands his ground, chin lifted high as his hand settles on Loki’s hip, protective. “Do you agree to this, King Laufey?” he repeats, and while the king seems unimpressed with the arrangement, he cannot deny it is for the best. He concedes to the prince’s conditions with a bow of his head. Thor’s gaze flits to Odin, whose answer is much the same. To refuse would be to start a war that could have been avoided, and he is impressed with the maturity his first-born demonstrates.

“Do I get no say in this?” Loki huffs, though she leans into Thor’s half-embrace all the same. 

Thor simply smiles, turning her towards him and ducking his head to rest their foreheads together. “And what say you, Loki?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in his chest, much like the thunder he harnesses. "Will you do me the honour?"

Loki returns his smile with one of her own, softer and more reserved. 

Her answer: “Yes.”


End file.
